


Something to Celebrate

by rw_eaden



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baking, Bunker Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Pie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6837784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rw_eaden/pseuds/rw_eaden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean teaches Cas how to make apple pie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something to Celebrate

Cas has somehow managed to get flour everywhere, in his hair, behind his ears, even in the creases around his eyes. It was pretty damn impressive considering the kitchen counter and the stand mixer were relatively free of the white powder. Cas brushed his hand through his hair and shook his head like a disgruntled cat. Dean couldn’t help but laugh, which only made Cas frown harder.

“Why does baking have to be so problematic?” Cas asked, brushing off his goo coated shirt front.

“It’s really not, you know,” Dean said, tucking the ends of the cling wrap against, covering the pie dough.

“I would beg to differ,” Cas muttered.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’s waist and pulled him close, then kissed the tip of his nose. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and we’ll make the filling? You can even wear my apron this time if you want.”

Cas tilted his head, “Just the apron?”

Dean snickered, knocking their foreheads together. “As much as I would love it, I don’t think we’d get much pie baking done.”

“That’s okay with me.”

Dean chuckled and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek. “Pie first.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Cas said as he pecked Dean on the lips.

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” Dean let his arms fall and stepped away, “now go get changed,” he said, patting Cas on the ass.

Cas grumbled, trying to hide the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he walked out of the kitchen and into the bunker’s hallway. Dean busied himself by peeling and coring apples while Castiel changed clothes. The last time he’d made one of his mother’s pies it had been the Thanksgiving they spent at Bobby’s, before the fire. It was times like those that he’d actually had the time and the occasion to do something a little special, something that made their lives seem a little more normal.

Cas came back in, bare feet padding against the tile. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a Dark Side of the Moon shirt.

“When’d you get that?” Dean asked, gesturing to Cas with the peeler.

“Oh, a few weeks ago when Sam took me shopping. I liked it.”

Dean’s eyes drifted up and down Cas’s body. The shirt draped over his shoulders, making him look small. “I didn’t know you liked Pink Floyd.”

“It’s a recent taste I’ve acquired.”

This was a new thing, Cas expressing likes and dislikes. Over the past month he had declared his love for coffee, cinnamon toast, Red Vines, and all shades of green, and the Discovery Channel. He’d turned his nose up at Jolly Ranchers and he wasn’t too fond of gummy worms and he’d pretty much refused to watch any medical dramas or soap operas, claiming the drama was petty and could be easily hashed out if the characters weren’t such drama queens. Dean thought it was hilarious that the same man who called grape candies an abomination would complain about other people being drama queens. Cas wasn’t amused, which only made it funnier.

Dean’s heart fluttered behind his ribs. It was good that Cas was finding things to like. It was good that he was settling into the life he’d chosen for himself.

Dean handed Cas a knife and he proceeded to cut the apples into slices with the precision of a seasoned pastry chef. They worked in silence, cutting and peeling apples, measuring sugar and cinnamon, and enjoying the warmth and comfort they found in each other. It took about an hour to finish the filling and roll and blind bake the crust. Dean let Cas put the pie in the oven and set the time, then pressed a single kiss to his temple.

“Hey, guys.” Dean and Cas both turned to find Sam walking into the kitchen, empty coffee carafe in hand. He sniffed the air. “Are you guys baking something?”

“Dean was teaching me how to make apple pie,” Cas said.

“Really? What’s the occasion?” Sam asked.

“Why does pie need an occasion?” Dean asked.

“Well, it’s nothing, just,” Sam gestured at the air, “you never make apple pie unless there’s something special going on. You said it was too much work.”

“Well,” Dean said with a smile, “in that case we’re celebrating.”

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

Dean threw his arm around Cas’s waist, tugging him closer. “Life.”


End file.
